


Morning Ritual

by slashy (slashmyheartandhopetoporn)



Series: Love, Love, Love [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmyheartandhopetoporn/pseuds/slashy
Summary: Some morning sweetness.some ridiculous domestic sap. a silly ooc snippet. written a while back and finally publishing since i'm working on another snippet for these two as well, also in this universe.





	Morning Ritual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leslielol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslielol/gifts).



> leslielol prompted this ages ago, and i wrote it just for her. but i'm thinking of making a whole series of snippets (for her, lbr) and wanted to collect them in one convenient place. so this is it!

Will wakes to the sound of geese. 

Light streams softly into his bedroom from the open window, and though it’s faint in the morning dawn, it’s still enough to help Will wake fully. He keeps his eyes half closed all the same, his body warm and comfortable under the covers, and feels Hannibal breathing deeply beside him. And just outside, the geese honk their hellos as they fly overhead. Will imagines them in their V position and listens to their conversation, quiet and far away as it may be. Their squawks are dulled by distance, pared down to a gentle set of sounds that are not as sweet as regular birdsong, but lovely all the same. 

Wanting to try and catch sight of them before they’ve gone too far, Will slips out of bed and pads quietly to the balcony attached to the bedroom he shares with Hannibal. The sliding glass door clicks shut behind him with a slight snick, and he checks to be sure Hannibal remains undisturbed. Then Will focuses his gaze skyward until his eyes land on the geese. It’s a smaller flock, only a dozen or so birds, but their formation is perfect, their flight uniform, and Will smiles at the display. 

He watches them until they’re out of sight, and even though the early morning chill has his flesh raised out in goosebumps, he doesn’t go back inside. He lets his eyes drift, instead, to the surrounding scenery, past the chicken wire fence of their backyard. Out into the redwood forest that abuts their property. There are sparrows and warblers tweeting amongst the branches, and Will can see a doe and her fawn trekking delicately through the underbrush a half a mile away. He allows himself the distinct and unbridled pleasure of living amongst such unfettered wilderness, though there are parts of himself that doubt his ability to deserve it. No man who’s done what Will’s done should be permitted to revel in such natural beauty. That fact doesn’t keep him from doing so.

So caught up by the landscape is Will, that he doesn’t notice that Hannibal has joined him until the man is pressing a hot cup of coffee into his hands and draping a wool cardigan over his shoulders.

“You looked cold,” Hannibal murmurs.

“Thank you,” Will answers. “I was.”

Hannibal makes himself comfortable beside Will as he leans against the railing of the balcony. “I never get tired of this view.”

“It’s stunning,” agrees Will.

“And I never get tired of watching you take it all in.”

Will shakes his head at the improbable sweetness of Hannibal’s words. “How long were you watching me just now?”

Hannibal shrugs. “Only a few minutes.”

“I’m slipping. Good thing I don’t work for the F.B.I. anymore.”

Hannibal looks up at Will. His eyes are earnest. “Don’t ever lament your ability to get lost in such wonder.”

WIll looks down at him and takes a sip of coffee. “I won’t,” he says softly. Then he rests one hand on Hannibal’s neck. 

“Are you happy here, Will? With me?”

Will nods. “Yes, Hannibal.”

Hannibal smiles, satisfied. “Good. As am I.”

In silence they drink their coffee and watch the sunrise, and Will feels a warmth that has nothing to do with the sun, the coffee, or the cardigan.


End file.
